Sanitized Sex. Robert Kramm
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Russell, Jie-Hyun Lim, Umemori Naoyuki, Mire Koikari, David Arnold, Thoralf Klein, Michael Kim, David Courtwright, Jürgen Martschukat, Henry Em, Todd Henry, Sarah Kovner and Andre Schmid, who all gave me—knowingly and unknowingly—invaluable comments and advice during various stages of this project and pointed me in directions that I could never have foreseen on my own.
At the archives I visited, I always received a warm welcome and I want to express my gratitude to all the archivists without whose assistance this book wouldn’t have been possible. I especially want to thank Eric Vanslander at the National Archives in College Park, Maryland, who showed much patience in navigating me through finding aids and piles and boxes of records. His vast archival knowledge enabled me to discover hidden treasures. Sakaguchi Eiko, Amy Wasserstrom, and Kana Jenkins were of enormous help at the Prange Collection and the East Asia Collection at the University of Maryland, and they assisted and encouraged me to dig deeper in Japanese-language source material from the occupation period. Many thanks go also to Megan Harris from the Veteran’s History Project in the American Folklife Center at the Library of Congress, who provided me insights into firsthand occupiers’ narratives.
Numerous forums allowed me to present my thoughts and helped me to cope with my manifold concerns throughout the research for this project. At Waseda University, members of the Umemori-zemi were kind enough to listen to my initial and still incoherent research proposal, encouraging me to continue—or rather: to start the project—and also gave me helpful advice. Sebastian Jobs, Bruce Dorsey, Woody Register, and Olaf Stieglitz kindly gave their attention to a preliminary draft of my very first chapter at a fascinating workshop on “Uncertain Knowledge” at the GHI, Washington, DC, and their illuminating comments boosted and structured my subsequent research. As the project proceeded, I became indebted to the members of the research group Korea and East Asia in Global History, 1840–2000 (based at the FU Berlin and funded by the Academy of Korean Studies) for including me in their workshops and talks, namely Nadin Heé, Jaekyom Shim, Sunho Ko, Tobias Scholl, and Hakjae Kim. I also owe a debt of gratitude to my former colleagues at ETH Zurich for the collegial environment that allowed for endless discussions of my research project. It was a comforting atmosphere in which to overcome those uncertainties inevitably connected to the at times seemingly unbearable process of writing a doctoral dissertation. In particular I would like to thank Judith Große, Bernhard C. Schär, Vasudha Bharadwaj, Patricia Putschert, Sönke Bauck, Miguel Kempf, Anna Mohr, Francesco Spöring, Jana Tschurenev, Maria Framke, and Nikolay Kamenov, who read and reread chapters of my thesis, shared their insights, pointed me toward important literature, and helped me to organize my thoughts. Béatrice Schatzmann-von-Aesch was an inestimable support in accomplishing administrative tasks and guiding me through the university’s bureaucracy during my work and graduation at ETH Zurich.
The Research Institute of Comparative History and Culture at Hanyang University in Seoul was my first postdoctoral stopover and provided a warm welcome and supportive environment that enabled me to revise my manuscript. Director Park Chan Seung, faculty members Kim Sang-Hyun, Lee Changnam, Kim Chung-kang, So Hyunsoog, Yang Hee Hong, and administrative assistant Hong Sunghee all helped me tremendously to keep focused. The Institute for Advanced Study at the University of Konstanz allowed me to finish my final revisions, and I would like to thank Fred Girod, Svenia Schneider-Wulf, and Felicia Afriyie for the institutional support.
At the University of California Press, Reed Malcolm and Zuha Khan were both of indispensable help in navigating me patiently through the demanding process of turning a manuscript into a book. I owe many thanks to three anonymous reviewers, who were very critical yet unquestionably inspiring for my revisions of the final manuscript, particularly in encouraging me to underscore issues of masculinity and masculinization during the occupation of Japan. John Koster was of great help regarding proofreading and style editing that allowed me to publish a more reader-friendly book. All remaining mistakes are unquestionably my own.
Many friends and colleagues supported me individually in multiple ways. I would like to extend my gratitude to Jessica R. Pliley, who “viciously” read through many chapter drafts and guided me through American university press procedures with incredible patience until the final stages of this book. Till Knaudt, Shiro Yukawa, Toshihiko Nogami, Cyrian Pitteloud, Jan Schmidt, Hans-Martin Krämer, Matsusaka Hiroaki, Damien Kunik, and Max Ward, with their deep local knowledge, were a wonderful if also sobering corrective, reminding me not to lose track of modern Japanese history. I am very grateful to the “Erfurt gang,” to David Möller, Sebastian Jobs, Robert Fischer, Silvan Niedermeier, and Nina Mackert, who read parts and chapters of this book, and who gave me justifiably harsh critiques but also friendly advice. Their undisputed friendship provided both intellectual and emotional support. My deepest thanks go to my parents Friederike and Franz-Albert for their long-lasting hope in their son’s doings, and to my wife Anna and our daughter Pauline who kept supporting me with their love and patience while I was finishing this book.
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Parts of Chapter 1 appear in the articles “Sexual Violence, Masculinity and Agency in Post-Surrender Japan” in the Journal of Women’s History, and “Haunted by Defeat: Imperial Sexualities, Prostitution and the Emergence of Postwar Japan” in the Journal of World History’s special issue Gender and Empire. Japanese names are written with surname preceding the given name, and Japanese expressions and places are transcribed in the revised Hepburn system.
Introduction
“We did not really want to go to Japan. Every mile toward Japan was a mile farther away from home and our loved ones,” writes Alton Chamberlin, veteran of the U.S. occupation forces in Japan, in his memoirs. “Sometime in September [1945] we pulled into Yokohama, Japan. I was amazed as I looked down from the ship’s rail at the Japanese workers on the pier. They were so tiny! They reminded me of monkeys scurrying around at their assigned tasks.” In his racist sentiments, he “couldn’t imagine ever being a friend to one of them or having an intimate relation with a Japanese woman. We were taught to hate them. We were told not to trust them for fear they would stick a knife in our back or cut our throat.” Very soon, however, Chamberlin realized that, “A pack of cigarettes brought two dollars worth of Japanese yen (I think fifteen yen equaled one dollar), or a session with a geisha girl. A cake of soap or a candy bar would bring the same.” After Chamberlin and his companions Pee Wee and Malek had settled in temporarily in Yokohama, they went to town for the first time. “Despite our pure intentions,” Chamberlin recalls, “we soon found ourselves entering a Japanese abode which turned out to be one of ill repute.” In quite some detail Chamberlin describes his first sexual encounter in a brothel in occupied Japan:
[W]e were led into a room where there were several very cute young Japanese girls all dolled out in pretty kimonos and attractive make up. . . . Pee Wee was hot to trot. Malek was agreeable. I didn’t want to kill the joy. So we followed the mamasan’s directions and each picked a girl and went into small private rooms. The floor covering was of straw mat material. The room was clean and bare. There was no bed. On the floor was a cotton quilted pad. A box of Kleenex completed the furnishings.
There was no foreplay. This was strictly business to them. My girl helped me undress and quickly slipped out of her kimono. We did not kiss. There was no fondling except her taking my already ready penis in her little hand to guide it into her. She moved deftly in unison with my thrusts as if she was enjoying it. I came quickly as usual. Our racial differences dissolved in the liquid passion of my sperm. Being in her felt good so I continued thrusting until I came again.1
Sex sold well in occupied Japan and helped many servicemen like Chamberlin forget their dislocation far away from home and family while realizing orientalist fantasies through the joy of cheap and available sex, and—despite Chamberlin’s belief in dissolving racial differences—nourishing racist privileges. After World War II, in the immediate postsurrender period in the late summer of 1945, Japanese authorities had, in cooperation with private entrepreneurs of Japan’s entertainment industry, initiated a broad recreation scheme with brothels, cabarets, and nightclubs to comfort the Allied occupiers. In Tokyo alone, between fifty and seventy thousand sex workers catered to predominantly American servicemen during the occupation period. According to the estimates